Broken Roses
by Proudly Pinoy
Summary: Mysterious disappearances have been piling up across the US, with all of the victims last seen headed to an obscure, abandoned town. Now, with the Winchester brothers on the case, they too find themselves drawn to the eerie locale. Chapter 4, up!
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Sam, Dean, and all the towns here don't belong to me. The boys go to the WB, and Konami owns the rest. So don't sue. Everyone and everything else however, are totally mine J **

**Author's Note: Hello, folks! This is my first stab at writing a Supernatural fanfic, so be nice, hehehe. I've had the idea of crossing over two of my favorite series for a long time now (around the time 'Wendigo' aired, I believe), and now that I finally got a decent enough plot, I finally went ahead with it. Fans of Silent Hill 2 would be quick to realize (and deduce) certain plot points, but I'll try my best to keep everything fresh, I promise ;) On a side note, this story takes place after 'Something Wicked' - - I won't spoil anything, it's only just that episode nineteen is the last episode I watched. So anyway, without further adieu…**

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_**Supernatural / Silent Hill**_

"**_Broken Roses"_**

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Prologue:**

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Sunlight poured through the open window. Red curtains billowed gently in the air, giving way for the small cradle in the middle of the room to be bathed in glorious gold. The wicker cradle was painted white, old Victorian, yet contradictory in being both simple and opulent at the same time. It had sides tall enough to completely shield the child within from the view of people more than three feet away. Sam Winchester was standing at four. He brushed a strand of his long, dusty brown hair from his eye, before taking a second to turn to the open window. It was very cold. He pulled his sleeves up his wrist, and then blew a quick puff of warm breath on his cupped hands, before he returned his attention to the cradle in front of him. "…" A soft whimper came from inside the wicker frame, innocent, almost like the sound of a toddler as it wakes. Sam narrowed his eyes, and wearily drew closer to the cradle. More sounds. Shifting weight, lips tasting each other, soft sighs of air. Giggling. The baby was awake. Sam made another step forward, this time catching a glimpse of the white comforter stretched inside. "…?" There was something else. Something wrong. A red stain at the very bottom of where he could see. Sam took a deep breath, and picked up his pace. "…!" His hands clutching to the sides of the cradle as he halted to a stop. It took everything he could not to throw up.

"Oh my God." Sam muttered under his breath, covering his mouth with his palm at the sight in front of him. Slowly, he staggered back, holding down the urge to just fall on both knees and vomit. The baby was still giggling. Or more appropriately, whatever was inside, was still gigglingLouder. Almost as if it were laughing at him.

"_Its okay, Sammy."_ he then heard a woman soothingly whisper from behind him. A beautiful voice. Startled, he spun around; something he wished he did not do. It was the last thing he saw, before everything went black.

"…_I'm here to get you..."_

"No!" Sam jerked his entire body forward, not only forcing him to strain against the tight seatbelt that held him down, but also to inadvertently smacking his older brother, Dean on the face with his left fist.

"Shit!" yelled Dean, as the blow surprised him so much that he accidentally swung the car's wheel to the left, maneuvering it right into the path of an eighteen-wheeler that was coming down the other lane. A deafening hum and a pair of blinding headlights came the brothers' way, prompting them to scream, somewhat comically, in unison. It was only half a second later, and a fraction at that before certain death, that Dean managed to pull the wheel right. Sam closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, as the roaring sound of two tons worth of steel blazed into his ears. "Shit!" Dean screamed again, as the sudden swerve made the wheels slide uncontrollably forward, right to the dangerously sharp curve just a few feet ahead. The thick coat of darkness from the cold night, one that their car's own headlights were barely able to pierce, made the other side of the curve look like a bottomless pit. And whether it was or it wasn't, neither brother wanted to find out.

Sam pressed his hands against the ceiling of their car, his body tensing at the thought of another violent car crash. "Hit the brakes!" he cried out, only to have his plea fall on deaf ears, as Dean opted to swerve left once more, in an effort to ride the bend of the curve. The tires screeched. Metal scraped against metal, forcing bright, yellow sparks to fly into the night air. Then as fast as it came, the entire ordeal ended. The car finally grinded to a halt, leaving behind a thick trail of smoke and skid-marks.

"…" Dean stared blankly in front of him, his hands still clamped over the wheel, and his boot still firmly pressed on the brake. Sam too, was still catching his breath. "…Dean, you okay?" he then asked, with a voice that shook between syllable. Dean nodded, still looking blankly ahead, and licked his lips. "You?"

"…yeah." Sam softly responded.

"Okay. Good." retorted Dean, before smacking his brother on the back of the head. Surely enough, Sam was quick to cry out at the blow. "That was for hitting me." Dean calmly declared, before smacking his brother on the head once again. "And that! That is for my car!

"Okay! Okay!" protested the younger brother, waving his hands in the air to fend off anymore quick slaps. "Christ, I had a bad dream, okay?"

"No kidding. What about my car, you think she'll be having good dreams tonight?"

"…shut up." Sam quickly rebutted while he unlatched his seatbelt. He knew that he almost got them both killed, and he knew that Dean won't let this opportunity to get double the chance of bossing him around slip. It was going to be a long night. With a low moan, Sam stepped out of the car, and began to inspect the damage. "It's not that bad..." he quickly reported over his shoulder, as he trailed the scratches with his index and middle fingers. "I mean, all it needs is a little touch-up…and…" Sam stopped, suddenly feeling something wet splattered across the scratched-off paint. Something red. "Oh…" Sam quickly jolted to the direction of the curve that they had just narrowly missed crashing right through, and to his horror, saw the lifeless body of a beautiful woman in casual clothing, lying bloody and torn on the side of the road. Staring at him with wide, dead eyes. "…shit."

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**Chapter 1: "A Morning in Brahms…"

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A magnificent hail of light broke through the passing clouds that beautiful morning. The birds sang, and a lot of 'good mornings' were exchanged. Just like any other morning in the small town of Brahms. The main roads were a little narrow, and no building stood higher than four stories tall. Kids headed for another day of school rode safely in bicycles of every color, and only a few cars, none of which are imported or tricked out, safely traverse the clean streets. Perhaps that was why a lot of heads turned at the sight of an old, black muscle car driving by. Nonetheless, it managed to catch the attention of a young police officer who had just emerged from the town's public library. He had a small file tucked beneath his arm, and held onto it tighter. Soon enough, the black car turned a corner, and disappeared from the officer's line of sight. He was certain that the car was headed for the small motel further in. And he was right.

"Bates' Inn..." Dean read silently as he hastily parked his car on one of the numerous, empty spaces. He then took a moment to rub his tired eyes, not only due to exhaustion, but also because the whole motel was a rather bright shade of green and white. "They couldn't have picked a better name…"

An entire night spent both on driving and worrying, didn't exactly bring out the best in his attitude, nor his handsome features. But still, even half-asleep, grumpy and limping his way out of a beat-up car, most of the young ladies present still didn't pass the chance to follow him with interested eyes. It would be hard to fault them of course, seeing as there was an air of mystery and undeniable charm surrounding the young man. Not to mention that the form-fitting gray shirt he wore beneath his black, leather jacket wasn't shy in revealing just how well-built he was. And quite honestly, Dean knew it. He knew he had the looks. And he knew it when a couple of ladies followed him with their eyes. And usually, he'd take a second to give back a sly smile, or maybe even a wink if he's really interested. But at that very moment, he was too pre-occupied to give a damn.

Sam, the object of Dean's concern, not that such a thing would ever come to admittance, stared out of the car's open window. The cool wind did nothing to soothe either his rattled nerves, or the emptiness in his stomach that made him want to throw up. Again. Like his brother, Sam too was a handsome young man, albeit with somewhat more feminine features. Also, he had a height that should automatically allow him entry to the NCAA. Too bad he preferred reading a book instead of playing ball. And like his brother, he had a body that most other men would envy. Unlike his brother however, he never really thought much about it, and neither did he choose to flaunt it; opting always to hide himself beneath long sleeves covered furthermore by flannel shirts, much like the dark red one he had on now.

"…" Dark Red. Just like the blood splattered all over the road. Just like the blood that was still smeared on his hand.

"Sam!" Dean called; snapping the younger brother from what could have been another uncomfortable trance. "Got us a room at the second floor. Come on."

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"You had a vision." Dean calmly stated, hoping deep down that what he was saying rang true. "…right?" 

"…" Sam swallowed a lump in his throat, as he stared silently at the ceiling fan. There were small water stains around it, casting a dark, brown hue over the already-aged white paint. Oddly enough, all the corners of the room were also marked with the dirty color, though compared to the stain in the middle, they were barely visible.

"Sam." Dean called once more. "I didn't see her. Whoever it was you said we hit. There wasn't any blood on the side of the car, and there wasn't - - isn't - - any blood on you. If it were an apparition or something, I would have seen it too…"

"I don't know, Dean." Sam lifelessly responded, keeping his eyes on the stains overhead.

"What do you mean you don't know?" came the inevitable inquiry.

"Dean, the last time I had a vision, I had no idea where I was and who I was looking at. Not to mention that when I had visions, it always felt like Jason Voorhees walked into an orgy in my brain and started whacking away…"

"…wait, wait, so if it's not a vision…are you saying that you recognized the woman you saw on the road? Is that what you're telling me?"

"…I don't …the last time I had visions, my own psychic hoolas got looped together with somebody stronger. My thoughts pretty much just got…enfolded in his."

"So you think we have another rogue psychic on our hands?" Dean asked, though the bend of his brow revealed his skepticism at the idea. He knew Sam was hiding something. And Sam, deep down, knew that Dean knew it.

"We should just check the local lore here. Try and see if there were any… accidents or - - or other reports about some woman on the road. Maybe give us a clue or…some lead…" suggested Sam, hoping to get the conversation moving, hopefully to a stop. No such luck.

"…what about your nightmare?" Dean then asked, completely ignoring the course of action that Sam had just recommended.

"What?"

"Your nightmare. Do I have to explain what a nightmare is to you?"

"I know what a nightmare is."

"So? Tell me, what the hell was it about? Was it the same woman you saw? Did it have anything to do with the case that we're here for in Brahms for in the first place? The missing persons?"

"…I can't remember."

"…" Dean shook his head, and then rubbed the back of his head with an agitated hand. "Okay. Okay. I'm going to have my car fixed, then I'm gonna' hit the local diners, see if there are any other sightings of whatever it is that you think you saw."

"I'm coming with you - -" whispered Sam as he slowly sat back up. There was a discomfort on his face that he desperately tried to hide; something that Dean was quick to notice. "No. You're staying here to rest. Don't argue." he immediately instructed, forcing his younger brother to reluctantly lie back down. "Get some sleep, Sammy." Dean softly reiterated, locking his eyes on Sam's, just to prove that he was serious in what he said. "…okay." finally replied Sam. Dean nodded, and grabbed the keys from the small table by the bed. "I'll be back soon." he reassured his brother before he opened the door and stepped out.

"…" Sam shifted his weight- - hoping to gain at least some semblance of comfort - - and then raised his open palm to the level of his eye. He already washed it the very moment he stepped into the room. And then two more times soon after. But the blood was still there. It just wouldn't go away. Sam closed his eyes, and clenched his fist, trying his best to keep calm under the unusual circumstances. "_There's an answer for everything…" _he thought to himself, fairly certain that the problem was something he and his brother could solve. It was their job after all. To deal with the Supernatural.

All of a sudden, the radio on the other end of the room lit open. Sam immediately sat up. An old song was playing. A love song. It was the type of song you would catch your grandmother listening to on her old Victrola during those dreary weekend visits. And by the time the song's first verse was coming to an end, Sam was already on his feet, on his way to unplug the radio. But something stopped him. And it wasn't just the realization that the radio wasn't plugged at all. Rather, there was a small scratch in the voice of the woman singing; a slight distortion that cut into Sam's ear. It was a distortion that grew louder, and louder, to the point that every other sound was devoured by heavy static.

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"Miss? Could you hand us some ketchup over here?" asked one of the diner's patrons just as he noticed the waitress passing by. "Container here's empty." he then explained with a polite smile. The waitress returned the courtesy and grabbed the ketchup bottle from an empty table. A thank you and a welcome later, and she was ready to get back to the counter for the next delivery. She had hair that shone brighter than the sun, tied back to a clean pony-tail because she preferred being comfortable instead of being more beautiful than she already was. Her eyes were bright, baby-blue, and she knew how to walk like a super-model even though she has three plates stacked on one tray per hand. 

Her name was Cindy Bennett. Twenty years old. Everyone knew it. Half of the men there, in fact, only had breakfast in that diner just so they could catch a glimpse of her during the morning shift. That was why, her brother Michael, just four years older than her, was always there to keep an eye on everybody. It was a job made exponentially easier by the fact that he was a cop, and that wearing the badge always helped a lot in the art of intimidation. Unlike his sister, Michael had short, brown hair with a small peak at the middle, all shaven-off for the sake of utility. He had blue eyes, much like his sister, only his were so deep that you'd feel like they were burning a hole right through you. So much so, girls everywhere wanted to just steal the pair of black aviator shades he always wore just so that he could never hide his beautiful eyes again. In fact, if the men were there spotting on Cindy, then the ladies were there spotting on Michael, who was always there to protectively watch over his sister. He took a vow, long ago, that he'd never let any harm come to her. Not like the other one.

"…?" Michael turned his gaze to the diner's door. It was Dean.

"…" Cindy glanced at her brother for a second, before returning to the counter. Just in time to have Dean grab a seat right beside where she was stood.

"Hey there." he quickly greeted with a charming smile. He knew that the cop was staring at him from a seat to his far left, and he was certain that, given the track-record of his recent adventures, the day won't end without him learning the reason why.

"Good morning." Cindy greeted with a warm smile. "Welcome to Jacob's Diner."

"Hey. Uh, can I get some coffee?" Dean asked, returning the smile.

"Sure. Will that be all?"

"Well, what do you recommend?" Dean then asked. Cindy smiled, and then turned her gaze to somebody who was approaching them from the side. "She will recommend the blueberry waffles." interrupted a deep, but kind voice. "But that's only because she hates strawberries."

"Shut up, Mike." Cindy quickly retorted behind a soft chuckle. "And I don't hate strawberries."

"…good to know." muttered Dean.

"So, what brings you to our fair little corner of the world?" Michael asked, turning to Dean, who had his attention pulled between Michael and getting served a cup of coffee.

"Wow, didn't think you could pinpoint tourists at a glance…" stated Dean, mouthing the word 'thanks' at Cindy for the drink. By then, Michael had already taken the seat beside Dean, his back and elbows casually rested on the counter, while his legs were stretched out, one foot resting on top of another.

"Nah, I can't. But I've been in this town my whole life, and I've never seen a 1969 Ford Mustang around here. Hell, there's no car here that sailed the way yours did. She's a real beauty, bro. Cougar Chassis?"

"Haha, man I wish. Only two in the world have those. You have a quick eye, though."

"Saw you just as I got out of the library awhile back. Had a friend, I recall. So. You tourists? Or just passing by?"

"Uh, neither. We're botanists." Dean immediately responded.

"…botanists." Michael repeated, just to make sure that he heard it right.

"Yeah. We came from South Ashfield. You know… a couple of miles West?"

"…" Michael nodded, and folded his hands over his chest.

"Heard there was this really weird fauna in the woods. Near the lake?"

"…Toluca Lake?" Cindy asked. Michael shot him a look that immediately silenced her.

"That's the one." Dean stated, acting as if he didn't notice the odd exchange between the two. "The lake is in another town, right? But there's this path in the forest that leads to some lookout point where you can get a good view…"

"Silent Hill." Cindy declared in a hushed voice. "The town's called Silent Hill." As if on cue, some of the diner's patrons stopped and turned their attention to the source of the ominous name. Dean fought the urge to laugh out at just how cheesy the whole situation seemed to become.

"I'm sorry sir..." Michael then remarked, his tone of voice turning much sterner. He even changed the way he sat, from an extremely relaxed posture into an incredibly stiff one. "…but Silent Hill - - and the entire woodland area surrounding it - - is off-limits. No exceptions."

"…" Dean turned to Cindy, who looked away, and then returned his attention to Michael. "Can I ask why?"

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Sam bit his lips. Hard. Tears were in his eyes. He couldn't control it. He was breathing harder. Faster. Deeper. "…okay." he kept muttering to himself in a voice cracked by sheer emotion. Sam could barely balance himself on top of the small, wooden chair that he was stepping on; itself positioned right in the middle of the two beds, and directly below the noisy ceiling fan. Around the fan's base was tied one end of a white blanket. The other end was tied tightly around Sam's neck. The static from the radio was deafening. 

"_That's it…" _whispered a woman's, warm voice. "…_just take a deep breath…it's nothing to be scared of. You'll see." _

"…" Sam nodded his head, and began to take long, deep breaths, opting to exhale through his nose instead of his mouth. "…okay…"

"_Are you calm? See? Doesn't that feel better?" _the woman then asked, almost like a mother would a child. Sam nodded once again, with tears still streaming down his cheeks. It's been so long since the last time he cried. So long, that he couldn't even remember the last time it happened. All he knew at that moment was that he couldn't stop it. "…I love you, baby." he then whispered through a sad smile. "I love you so much."

"…" Jessica smiled back, and placed a gentle hand on her lover's cheek. "_I love you too."_

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**To be Continued…**

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**Author's Note: Well? Yeah, I know it's slow, but I have this obsessive compulsion of setting things up at a snail's pace :p And don't worry, I know that you could see who the mystery woman was a mile away, but the mystery isn't really about _her _J So, drop me a line and tell me what you all think! Feed me! Cheerio! **


	2. The First Night

**Author's Note: Here it is, the second chapter! By the way, I have a pretty ideal cast for the story (I usually cast what I write in my little brain anyway), and I totally forgot to say it at the end of the first chapter :p Anyway, I always imagined officer Michael Bennett as Wentworth Miller (TV's Prison Break), on account that he's a beautiful manJ His sister Cindy, I casted as Stacy Keibler (WWE, Dancing with the Stars), pretty much because she's a beautiful womanJ Well, without further adieu, here it is…!**

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Previously on…

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**Supernatural…**

**Two brothers on a long journey, DEAN and SAM WINCHESTER, united not only by blood, but by the burning desire for vengeance. Vengeance for their mother who was brutally slain by a demon more than a decade ago. The very same demon who struck once more by killing on Sam's love JESSICA. Now, trained in combat and with wide knowledge of the mystic arts, the two travel the country, hunting the creatures of malice and darkness, hoping to one day come across the monstrosity that set them on their path in the first place…**

**Silent Hill…**

**A small resort town in Northern part of the country, SILENT HILL fell victim to a tragedy that literally turned it into a ghost town not soon after. Over the years, people who have lost their way stumble into this town. They never return. **

**The brothers, on their way to tracking down their father, come across news of a bevy of disappearances across the country, all of which point to one commonality. They were all last seen near the deserted town of Silent Hill. Surely enough, the two decide to investigate. As they drive down a winding road, a horrible nightmare causes Sam to lash out violently, nearly causing them to crash on an eighteen-wheeler. They barely missed. But then, they had the problem of uncontrollably swerving through the railings. Thankfully, Dean managed to regain control just in time, but not without damage to the beautiful Impala, and from what Sam saw, running over a beautiful young woman. **

**Dean however, doesn't see this, and decides to drive to Brahms, the town nearest to Silent Hill, in order to get information. By the time they get there however, Sam has grown unexplainably ill. That's why he gets left inside the motel while Dean sets out to do the job, to which end he met a beautiful waitress, CINDY BENNETT, and her older brother MICHAEL. It is them who inadvertently confirm Dean's suspicions about Silent Hill. But as they discuss the strange town, the troubled Sam finds himself coaxed into suicide, by none other than his dead girlfriend Jessica…**

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Chapter 2: "The First Night"**

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"How do I even eat this?" Sam asked with a stupefied grin, as he held a small, live octopus up in the air with his chopsticks. It was already a quarter before ten in the evening, and they were the only ones in the block still eating out. Which was perfect.

"You put it into your mouth then you chew, genius." Jessica slyly retorted, watching as her suitor struggled with the exotic dish. It took all her restraint to just laugh out loud, especially as the 'food' kept on trying to escape Sam's mouth. The chef looked at them from behind the counter, shook his head and then chuckled to himself.

"…thish ish haaard…" Sam struggled to exclaim, giving up and slowly dropping the food on his palm. Jessica shook her head. "Give me that, you wimp." she then ordered, leaning across the small table and grabbing the small creature from Sam's hand with her chopsticks. In an instant, she whipped her head back, and dropped the poor thing into her mouth. "…whoa." muttered a wide-eyed Sam. "You're amazing."

"I know." Jessica responded in between chewing.

"By the way, aren't we in a Chinese restaurant? Because you know, octopus is totally Korean…"

"And so are canned babies from what I heard..." replied Jessica, before she took another small sip from her iced tea. "I don't want to eat babies." she then remarked. Sam grinned. "But you just ate a baby octopus." Sam protested with a sheepish grin.

"It wasn't a baby octopus, it was an old, pedophile-rapist, drug-pushing octopus. And in octopus land, the criminals that are caught get thrown into these Chinese restaurants where they inevitably receive the death penalty - - which is to get eaten by us."

"So… you're…what, an intricate part of octopus land's legal system?" Sam asked. Jessica nodded. Three seconds later, both of them began to laugh.

"Here you go kids…" interrupted the chef, placing a small plate with a fortune cookie on the table. "…on the house."

"Thanks Dan." Sam quickly declared. Jessica followed suit. "Oh, he put the cookie on my side of the table. I own it now." she then stated with mock glee. Sam just smiled and nodded. "Open it."

"…" Jessica raised her eyebrows at Sam, before turning her attention to the fortune cookie in her hands. "Okay…" she cracked it in two, and immediately raised the small slip of paper to the level of her eyes. "…let's see…" Sam watched her as she fell silent. And for him, that one moment of silence stretched into an eternity. It was a wait that was well worth the smile that slowly stretched across Jessica's face, and consequently, that crept up on Sam's too. "So? What do you think?" he asked her in a soft voice. Jessica looked him in the eye and placed a hand on top of his. "I think it's about damn time."

"I knew you were smart…" Sam jokingly retorted, his voice trailing into the distance as he leaned forward. Jessica did the same. And for the first time, their lips met. And it was wonderful. All thanks to one small note inside a fortune cookie - - '_Jess, I love you. Be my girlfriend?'_. From that day on, Sam knew that he wouldn't ask for anything else.

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"_I love you too…" _her words echoed in his mind. Haunting him, taunting him. The words of the woman who he allowed to die. Maybe now, with his feet kicking helplessly in the air, and all the blood and oxygen getting severed from his brain, he could ask her forgiveness. Perhaps if he showed her mow much he still loved her, then he would no longer feel shame. "_I love you too…"

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_

Dean scratched his forehead as he shambled his way back to the motel room. He checked his watch. It was already a quarter past twelve. Which meant that Sam must already be looking to grab something to eat. Good thing Dean ordered another meal 'to go' before he left the diner. It was a burger. And it smelled so good that Dean promised to hurry back before he was tempted to eat it himself. Now, with the room in his view, it looked like he was going to make good with that promise. With a loud sigh, Dean took the room key out of his pocket, and stuck it into the steel doorknob. He then tilted his head and frowned, as it was only then that he noticed the small patches of rust on the handle. He'll just have to think about it later.

"…what the…?" Dean furrowed his brows. "…hell?" it was the key. It wouldn't turn. No matter how hard he twisted it, it just wouldn't turn. Dean looked up to the room number. _302_. It was the right room, the only difference being he could hear a small static noise coming from inside. "Sam? Sam, it's me, open up!" he then shouted, growing a little worried at the oddity of the situation. "Sam?" Still no answer. He began to pound on the door, just to be sure that his brother didn't just fall asleep. "Sam!" Dean pulled the key out and then made his way to the room's window pane. The closed curtains made it impossible for him to see inside. But even from there, he could still tell that the lights were still on.

"Sammy?" Something was wrong. Dean cursed under his breath, and returned to the locked door. He took a step back, held his breath, and then lunged forward with a strong kick. Strong enough to tear the lock right off of its hinges. The door swung open, and Dean didn't spare a second charging inside. The image that met him however, stopped him right in his tracks.

It was Sam. And he wasn't moving. His limp body was swaying in the air like a rag doll tied to a noose. Lifeless. "No, no…" Dean's heart stopped. "No, no…" pulling himself together, Dean ran to his brother's side, and wrapped his arms around Sam's waist. He wasn't breathing. "Come on!" he screamed, as he began to push the body upward in order to relieve the tension on the neck. Hopefully, it's enough to allow for a small amount of circulation to occur. "Come on!" with one arm still around Sam's waist, Dean then reached up to the noose that was locked his brother in place. "Come on!" he fumbled with the knot, but it was no use. He couldn't untie it with just one hand. It was too tight. "Just hang in there Sammy…" he muttered through gritted teeth, as he used his free hand to pull out a small switch-knife from his back pocket.

"You're not going to die…" Dean reassured him, as he quickly began to cut at the noose, careful not to hit Sam's neck in the process. The static grew louder. "You're not…!" He continued to cut. And cut, and cut, until finally, he heard a snap. And then Sam's body crashed right down.

"Sammy!" Dean screamed again, as loud as his lungs would let him. He quickly pulled the remaining fabric from his brother's neck, and angrily threw it to the side. "Sammy, wake up!" Dean cradled his brother, his own eyes beginning to water as his plea fell on deaf ears. "Please…"

The truth was, even with all he has seen and lived through, Dean never was a religious man. If he had a problem, he'd handle it. Letting somebody do something you know you could do never did make sense to him. Leaving something up a high power when it was in your own power to achieve it, just felt wrong. "_Please…" _But now, faced with what he feared the most, with something that he knew, was clearly out of his limits as a normal man, all he could do was pray. And for the first time in a long time, he felt his heart and soul speak with him. "…_let him stay…" _

A stirring cough answered his prayer. You could barely hear it. But for Dean, it was louder than thunder. Without another word, he pulled his brother into a tight embrace. Sam held his breath, finally realizing what he had just done. And what almost would have happened. "Dean…"

"Don't you ever!" snapped his older brother through clenched teeth, still not letting go of the firm embrace. He was crying. Both of them were. "You dumbass…you…stupid…moron…don't ever do that again…you hear me?"

Sam nodded, the expression on his face that of a pained one. He couldn't hear the static any longer. At that moment, the only thing he could head was his brother fighting back the tears. "God…Sammy…don't you ever do that again…"

* * *

Thirty-three minutes later, Sam found himself sitting on the edge of bed, the one farther from the door, watching his brother talk to an old man fixing the broken lock. His throat was still sore, but upon considering the alternative, he was lucky with what he got away with. Talking only made it worse. There was a glass of water in his hand. It was something he found himself staring at just to avoid his brother's occasional concerned glance. A glance that had so many questions buried underneath.

"Have to say, son…" the old man remarked as he replaced the lock. "…whoever kicked your door down must have been really strong. These locks are brand new. It's the only thing in this old place that won't fall apart…"

"Yeah…" Dean responded with a brazen expression. "I'm just glad that nothing was stolen…and no one got hurt…"

"Did you file a report? It's not everyday that criminals barge into motel rooms."

"Uh…well, there really wasn't any harm done, so…maybe we'll just let it slide."

"It's your call." the old man then remarked, just as he finished screwing in the last bolt. "It's really none of my business anyway, so I'll leave it as is."

"Thanks." Dean answered as he pulled out his wallet. "How much do I owe you?"

"It's already covered." replied the old man. Sam looked up.

"Seriously man, how much?" Dean continued, his curiosity once again peaking. The old man didn't give another answer, simply opting to just pack his tools and leave. "…okay…thanks."

"Maybe he just really likes fixing locks." Sam suggested in a hoarse voice.

"Yeah…" responded Dean while he pushed the door to a close. "So…"

"…so…?"

"So you want to talk about it, Sammy?"

"…no."

"Okay." Dean replied, gracious enough to give his brother some room to breathe. He knew that he won't get anywhere with his brother if he wasn't let in. "By the way…Sammy, how much do you weigh?" he then asked, earning him a quizzical look from his little brother. "Uh…one-seventy, one-eighty? Why?"

"Well…" Dean pointed up to the ceiling fan. "…it's impossible for that rickety-old fan to hold your weight without tearing itself right out of the ceiling."

"…maybe it's stronger than it looks…" Sam rebutted with a shrug, though he himself doubted the weight of such an argument.

"Or maybe we're already knee-deep in some really scary shit. We just don't know it yet."

* * *

Cindy let out a soft yawn. Not so much from being tired, but simply from being bored. She had just gotten off of work, wearing a brown coat to cover the waitress uniform that she had already grown extremely sick of wearing. She craved for more than the dull stability of a life handed to her. For something other than the daily short walk around the block to the apartment that her brother got for her. She never expected to get her wish. Without warning, a strong hand grabbed her on the shoulder from behind, forcing her to turn around. It was her brother. "Michael? What on Earth are you - -"

"You talked to him, didn't you? The guy in the diner?" he immediately accused, not even allowing his sister to finish her sentence.

"Why officer, is it illegal?" Cindy sarcastically retorted, pushing her brother's hand off of her shoulder. "Are you going to arrest me?"

"What did you tell him, Cindy?" Michael asked, ignoring his sister's attitude. It was something he was fairly accustomed to.

"…I told him what you wouldn't tell him. That the reason the roads to Silent Hill are all closed isn't just because of some Government ordinance, it's because half of the people who go there never come back!"

"Cindy, god, why do you have to tell that to every backtracker you come across?"

"Because the more you hide the truth, the more these people are going to want to learn it! Look, I told him that the fires from ten years ago made Silent Hill a structural hazard. That the people who don't come back get into accidents or whatnot. At least then, since they already know what happened there, their curiosity won't give them any stupid ideas…"

"Cindy…guy like that, the way he talked, how he carried himself, it tells you things, you know? It tells you that he's the type of guy who looks for trouble - -"

"Oh stop it with the FBI profiling crap. It looks cool on TV but when you say it, it just sounds lame."

"Okay, he's just like the last thirty-three people who mysteriously disappeared, how does that sound?"

"It sounds totally paranoid. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm tired, and I need to get some rest."

And without so much as waiting for a reply, Cindy turned around, and began to walk away. Michael called her name once more, but proved to be a waste of energy as his sister completely ignored him. He slapped his forehead, and then slid his hand down his face in aggravation. "…bloody hell…"

With an exasperated sigh, he then grabbed his mobile phone from his pocket, and went to auto-dial. It only took three rings before the person on the other line could answer. "Hey… Sarah, yeah…sorry, but…can we maybe… cancel tonight? It looks like I may have to go on patrol after all…"

* * *

It didn't take long before evening fell on the town Brahms. And thanks to a heavy blanket of clouds, there was nary a star in sight, which meant that Sam and Dean had a lot of shadows to hide themselves in as they trekked through the old forest path that led to Silent Hill. "A fire? That's what she told you?" silently asked Sam as he led the way.

"Yeah. Said that before the fire, it was one hell of a resort town. It got burned down some time ago, but they were never able to fully repair all the damage. A lot of accidents happened, so poof, people started leaving. Before you know it, government orders that the entire town be sealed off until further notice." responded Dean. "Too bad we never got to visit, huh?"

"…well, here's our chance." Sam dryly retorted, pushing his way across some thick bushes. "By the way, what makes you think that what happened to those missing people really were just accidents?"

"Because people don't go missing from falling down an open manhole, Sammy."

"I see your point." Sam casually replied, before idly scratching his sore neck. He quickly stopped himself in hopes that his brother wouldn't notice.

"Still sore?" asked Dean, knowing full well his brother's actions even without turning to look at him. Sam shook his head. "It's nothing, Dean."

"You know, honestly, I never expected you to be the 'hang yourself' kind of guy. Listen to too much 'Linkin Park'?

"Okay. Okay, so maybe we can start with what you do know about me?" Sam asked, raising his voice. "I mean, if you're so good, maybe you can tell me what happened to my life all those years that you and dad were gone?"

"…you walked out Sam." Dean rebutted, still keeping his cool. "Not me, not dad, you. I'm just thinking that whatever it is we may be dealing with here… maybe it could crank up our emotions, you know? Make you do things you normally wouldn't do…"

"What? Like an empath or a - -" Sam cut himself off, and stared past his brother. Something in a short distance caught his attention. A small flicker of white, that quickly grew larger as it turned to their direction. It was a flashlight, from a patrolman who was roving the perimeter. Sam immediately ducked behind a nearby try, prompting Dean to instinctively find cover as well. He opted to drop behind a fallen log, right in to avoid detection as the light flashed by. Close call.

The brothers pressed their backs against whatever was against them, straining to hear the patrolman's footsteps over the howling of the wind. If they were caught sneaking around, then they knew that they were going to have to turn back, or face being arrested on trespassing charges. Which meant that they were either going to have to lose a few bucks and a couple of lines of sweet talk, or that they were going to get their fists bloodied. Sam shot his brother a nervous glance, as the footsteps grew louder. Nearer.

"See anything Phil?" asked another patrolman, coming in from behind the first one.

"Thought I heard something…" came the obvious response.

"All the more reason to start moving. You know that this place plays tricks on us."

"You don't have to remind me, Steve." Phil answered, pointing his flashlight to his new partner. "I already lost two partners to this crazy neck of the woods. They were good men. You don't wanna' hear what happened to them. So I know better that anyone just how- -"

A sharp, static noise suddenly cut the patrolman off. Sam muffled a gasp. It was coming from their walkie-talkies. "My God…" muttered Steve, pulling the device from his belt and holding it up to his face. "It's real…the stories…"

"That means we're done here." Phil answered. "Turn it off. Let's go."

"But what about the perimeter…?" Steve protested, though it was clear in his voice that he would want nothing else than to leave as soon as possible. Behind the trees, Sam was beginning to rub his temples. Dean was quick to notice that his brother was in clear discomfort. Unfortunately, with the two patrolman still standing by, there was nothing he could do to help him. All he could do was watch as his tortured brother desperately held back the urge to scream.

"Whoever wants to pass can pass, it's not like we're legally obligated to stop people from getting themselves killed." Phil calmly stated, still unaware that the brothers were just three feet away from where he and his partner stood. "Now come on." he ordered once more. Sam was already on his knees.

"Okay, okay…" Steve then complied, finally turning off the walkie-talkie in his hand, and relieving them al of the disturbing sound. "But I'm not taking this thing home." he soon remarked, quickly throwing the small device to the ground. Phil shook his head, and walked past his partner. "…wimp."

Steve shrugged and followed his partner back to their jeep, finally giving the two brothers room to breathe. "You okay?" Dean immediately asked in a hushed voice, his concern showing through wide eyes. He could already tell that with the static now gone; his brother was also already regaining his strength. But still, he needed to make sure. "Sammy?"

"I'm fine." Sam answered after a moment's silence, a statement that he repeated since his first utterance was barely audible. "It's the static. It's what I heard back in…"

"The room. Yeah. Which means that whatever got you back there, and what we're looking for here… may just be one and the same." Dean took a step ahead of Sam. "You ready?" he then asked. A question which he knew that his brother would open to interpretation. Sam pressed his hand against his head, and then shook his head. He knew his brother well enough to know that he wasn't asking about marching forward.

"…you know I'm here for you, right?" Dean then remarked, turning around before his brother could give a response. "Anyway, we'd better get a move on. We just might get a chance to see what got those two guards so spooked."

"Dean." Sam called, prompting his brother to stop. "…what's the worst thing that you've ever done?"

"What's the…?" Dean raised his eyebrows. It was a question that caught him off guard. "…I don't know." came his shaky answer. "…why?"

"…nothing." Sam answered. "Let's go."

* * *

"_She's a little whore." _bitterly commented the woman on the other end of the mobile phone. Michael rolled his eyes, already accustomed to keeping his attention on both the road and his girlfriend's frank nature. Though with the pass to Silent Hill being as narrow and sharp as it is, he was a lot more inclined to give due attention to his driving. But then again, if the road won't kill him, then he was fairly certain that his girlfriend would. "She's my sister." he calmly responded, knowing full well that the two women never really saw eye to eye. "I know she can be a bit of a pain sometimes - -"

"_Michael" _quickly interrupted the woman._." Half of what little you make, you transfer to her account. Every month. Every month since you got a job! And how does she repay you?" _

"Come on, Sarah. It's not like she knows anyway."

"_Then maybe you should tell her…" _

"What? And turn my day into something from that 'One Tree Hill' place?"

"_I'm just saying. She already has a job. She's well over twenty-one…maybe it's time you cut her off? It's not like she's gonna' starve to death…" _

"I already lost one sister, and I don't want anything bad to happen to this one. You know that."

"_Whatever. Just…look…Mike, how do you expect us to…you know, take the next step? Like, build a house somewhere, or get a car that doesn't have a siren?" _

"…hey…" Michael furrowed his brow, a small smile creeping up his lip. "Is this your way of asking me if I'm ready to settle down?"

"_You're an awfully sharp one office Bennett." _Sarah teased, prompting a quick chuckle from her boyfriend. "_How about when you…et…ack…" _

"…Sarah?" Michael frowned and checked his phone's screen to see if he was still connected to his girlfriend. He was. He quickly put the phone back to his ear. "Sarah? Sarah…?" No answer. Only a soft, whizzing sound, like when a radio station is off the air. That was when the fog began to rise. It was faint at first, barely noticeable. But what was strange was that it crept up from every direction, surrounding the policeman's car almost as if it had a life of its own. "Damn it." Michael whispered, as he turned his phone off, and dropped it on the empty passenger's seat. That was when a woman on a police motorcycle sped past him at dangerously high speed, literally coming from out of nowhere. It was the lock of golden hair from beneath the rider's helmet, one tied to a pony-tail, however, which caught his attention. "Hey!" yelled the policeman, only to fall silent as he began to recognize the slim figure, and the tough posture of the female rider.

"Oh God…" Michael quickly floored the gas, hoping to catch a better glimpse of the rider who was now speeding out of his headlights' range. And with the nights darker around Silent Hill, his headlights were the only thing from throwing him into complete darkness. "It can't be…it can't be…" the young policeman repeated over and over, running his head through every possibility that could give a rational explanation as to how a woman who had disappeared for five years suddenly zip past him in the very same vehicle, and attire, that she was last seen in. With his attention fixed on the woman, and at the speed he ran, Michael barely had time to register what looked like a thin lone hardened lava right across the load. And right behind the thin line was a massive gorge that literally ended with a pitch black pit. "Holy shit…!" He quickly slammed his foot on the brakes, but it was to no effect. One second later, and the car flew off the gorge's edge, and down to the abyss. Michael held his breath, closed his eyes, and braced himself for the fall…

* * *

**Chapter 2 - End **

**Author's Note: Well, I hope you enjoyed! Thanks for the one review, it's like, way better than none ;) Take care, and once again, drop me a line and tell me what you think, it helps make the writing bearable:D **


	3. A Hint of Madness

**Author's note: Hey, I'm back with the new chapter! Nothing more too say than I hope you enjoy:)

* * *

**

**Previously on…**

* * *

**Supernatural…**

**Two brothers on a long journey, DEAN and SAM WINCHESTER, united not only by blood, but by the burning desire for vengeance. Vengeance for their mother who was brutally slain by a demon more than a decade ago. The very same demon who struck once more by killing on Sam's love JESSICA. Now, trained in combat and with wide knowledge of the mystic arts, the two travel the country, hunting the creatures of malice and darkness, hoping to one day come across the monstrosity that set them on their path in the first place…**

**Silent Hill…**

**A small resort town in Northern part of the country, SILENT HILL fell victim to a tragedy that literally turned it into a ghost town not soon after. Over the years, people who have lost their way stumble into this town. They never return. **

**The brothers, on their way to tracking down their father, come across news of a bevy of disappearances across the country, all of which point to one commonality.** **They were all last seen near the deserted town of Silent Hill. Surely enough, the two decide to investigate. As they drive down a winding road, a horrible nightmare causes Sam to lash out violently, nearly causing them to crash on an eighteen-wheeler. They barely missed. But then, they had the problem of uncontrollably swerving through the railings. Thankfully, Dean managed to regain control just in time, but not without damage to the beautiful Impala, and from what Sam saw, running over a beautiful young woman. **

**Dean however, doesn't see this, and decides to drive to Brahms, the town nearest to Silent Hill, in order to get information. By the time they get there however, Sam has grown unexplainably ill. That's why he gets left inside the motel while Dean sets out to do the job, to which end he met a beautiful waitress, CINDY BENNETT, and her older brother MICHAEL. It is them who inadvertently confirm Dean's suspicions about Silent Hill. But as they discuss the strange town, the troubled Sam finds himself coaxed into suicide, by none other than his dead girlfriend Jessica. Dean manages to save Sam in time, as well as convinces him to investigate the town of Silent Hill, where the disappearances seem to point. **

**Michael, suspecting that Dean is on his way to Silent Hill, decides to investigate, only to find his dead sister CYBIL driving past him. Distracted, he doesn't notice that the road abruptly disappears beneath him. Too late to stop his car, Michael falls right into what looks like a bottomless pit…

* * *

**

**Chapter 3: "A Hint of Madness"

* * *

**

Dean blew a puff of air into his hands, and began to rub them together. "It's freaking cold here, man." he glumly complained, as he and his brother finally reached the clearing that stood at the edge of Silent Hill. A thick fog obstructed their view, literally covering the horizon in a lifeless shade of grey. Their flashlights had little to no affect either, only managing to illuminate one foot's distance. At the very least, they could still see the dark-green grass beneath their feet, and that it stretched undisturbed off into the distance. They were close to their destination. "Straight ahead." whispered Sam, carelessly marching right into the fog.

"Wait up, Sammy boy." Dean remarked, knowing full well that his brother was only this hotheaded whenever something really bothered him.

"Scared of a little fog Dean?" Sam taunted, stopping only at the sight of forms beyond the grey mist. "I think I see something…"

"…does it have boobies?" Dean asked with mock excitement, only to frown as his younger brother once again chose to completely ignore him.

"It's a fence." Sam declared, as he got a good view of the frail, wooden border not ten feet away. They were painted white, but old age had already caused it to chip away, leaving only a faded color and some unsightly cracks. Just a little further and he could already make out the shape of a barnyard and some stables, all of them sharing the same derelict condition. "Looks like a ranch."

"Okay…" muttered a rather nonchalant Dean. Sam turned and stared at him. "You're not cracking a Michael Jackson joke?" he then asked, with a somewhat beleaguered smile on his face.

"Too easy." Dean quickly responded. "Besides, I'm already creeped out enough as it is."

"Good call." Sam retorted, when the sound of something cracking open forced him to quickly turn around. Dean on the other hand, already had a hand on the grip of his pistol, though he didn't pull it out of his belt just yet.

"Should I ask if somebody's there?" inquired Sam, though he himself already had a hand stuck inside his duffel bag, ready to take out the sawed-off double-barrel shotgun that he always did love to use.

"Sure Sammy, let's give away the element of surprise." Dean sarcastically retorted, as he began to slowly move to the direction of the mysterious noise.

"It could just be the wind blowing." Sam rebutted. "Or a ferret."

"Right. Because in our line of duty, never has there been one time when we let our guard down right before something big and ugly came down on our heads."

"Point taken."

"Good. Let's go."

The small fence didn't prove to be much of an obstacle for the two brothers, who barely made a sound as they climbed over it. With guns drawn defensively, they didn't waste any time in making sure that the immediate area, or at least as much as vision permitted them, was clear. Of course, with how little their flashlights helped that black evening, ensuring their present safety wasn't exactly an easy ordeal. A sudden rattling however, gave them the perfect opportunity to readjust their senses. "Sound came from there…" Dean declared in a muted voice, pointing both his pistol and his flashlight to the old stables.

The double-doors leading inside were left open, giving Dean a glimpse of the empty horse stalls that were left untended within. Still keeping as silent as he could, the older Winchester made a quick dash to the side of the entrance, and immediately pressed his back against it. Sam followed suit, though unlike his brother, he kept low to the ground instead of sticking to the wall. Another rattle came from inside, only this time; it was followed by a much more distinct sound of heavy shuffling. Like feet slowly dragging across the floor. Somebody, or something, was definitely inside.

Dean shot his brother a quick look, and nodded. Sam returned the gesture, laying the duffel bag on the dark-green grass and finally pulling out the double-barrel. The noise grew louder. Without any hesitation both of them charged in, guns at the ready, just in case something horrific would come barreling toward them. And the very first thing their flashlights fell on was a little girl's limp legs, sprawled on the ground; the rest of her body obscured by shadows. "Oh hell…" both brothers muttered, just before something dragged the girl's body into one of the empty horse stalls to their right, and out of their view.

"Go!" Dean yelled, as he and Sam made a frantic sprint to the stall where the girl disappeared into. In the back of their minds, they were certain that it was already too late to save the girl's life, especially with the amount of blood that was left on the floor. But still, with the knowledge that this was their chance to take down whatever hurt that girl, and possibly put a premature end to this case; neither Sam nor Dean left any room for second-guessing their actions. In the short span of time that they covered the gap between themselves and the girl's body, they mentally prepped themselves for whatever it was that had taken her. They had live rounds in their guns, packets of salt in their pockets, vials of holy water in their jacket, and daggers made entirely out of pure silver holstered by their ankles, just in case. Vampire, demon, werewolf, zombie, anything, they would have been ready. But they never expected a magnum revolver to greet them in the face.

"Stay away from her!" screamed a frail old man, on his knees, who cradled the girl protectively in his arm. She was already dead. Her eyes stared blankly overhead. "Stay away!" the old man yelled once more, cocking his gun just to prove that he meant business. Dean however, didn't flinch, as he still had his pistol trained right between the old man's eyes. "Drop the weapon!" ordered the older Winchester, fairly certain that at the angle the old man held his gun; he'd never connect with a fatal shot. "Now!"

"You're just like them! Aren't you?" the old man then accused, his hand still shaking. "Just like the rest of them!"

"I said drop the weapon!" Dean yelled, still not relenting from his own stance. Sam gave his brother a nervous look, obviously unsure of the guilt or innocence that the old man may have. "He's human…"

"Leave my granddaughter alone!" the old man finally screamed, prompting the two brothers to take a second. It was only then that they realized the tears from his eyes. It was also only then that they had a good look at his face. There was a small scar on his grey brow, which looked to have been very deep once. His white hai

r was completely gelled back, and he had a trimmed beard which covered his chin, and the top of his upper lip. He wore a brown jacket over a plain, flannel shirt, and a pair of slacks that were milky white. "Just leave her alone…"

"Your what?" Sam asked, the first one of them to lower his gun.

"Please…she didn't do anything wrong…" then pleaded the old man, his aggression clearly giving away to genuine despair.

"What happened here?" Dean asked, still weary of the mysterious person in front of them. He still lowered his pistol nonetheless. "Who are you?"

"My God…they killed her…" came the old man's tearful reply. "My poor girl…"

"Sir, please." Sam knelt down beside the anguished man, and placed a hand on his shoulder. It took awhile before he got calm enough to even look the young Winchester in the face without breaking apart. Dean stepped closer, and got on a knee was well. "Tell us what happened."

"…I…" the old man's gaze returned to the girl that he cradled. "I have to go."

"Sir…" Sam reached for the old man's shoulder, but the old man suddenly jerked away.

"She said this would happen…back at the school, she said it would happen…"

"She?" Dean furrowed his brows. "Your granddaughter?"

"I have to go back…" mumbled the old man. "I must…"

"Sir…" Sam raised his palms slowly to the air, trying to show a gesture that they were on his side. "…we need you to tell us…"

"Leave us alone!" the old man suddenly snapped, cutting Sam off before he could finish. Dean shook his head, and stood back up, obviously more than a little frustrated at the old man's refusal to help. In fact, he was right about to speak his mind, when something else managed to catch his attention. The sound of footsteps. Sam and Dean exchanged urgent glances, and pulled out their guns once again.

"Stay here." Dean instructed, pointing to the old man who was still too lost in grief to even notice their cause for alarm. "Watch over him."

"Be careful." came Sam's answer. Dean nodded, and without another moment's hesitation, he headed out to the field to hunt for whatever made the sound.

* * *

Cindy let out a contented sigh as she stepped out of her shower, wearing only a small, wet towel to cover herself. It was only a quarter before eleven that evening, and on any other day, she would have still been out with her friends, partying the night away. But that evening, it was different. That evening, she needed time to herself. To rest. Lay back to house wine and music. Unfortunately for her, however, her plans would reach a screeching halt before they could even begin.

The screeching noise of her phone ringing interrupted her just as she was about to enter the bedroom for a fresh change of clothes. It came from the living room, which was just at the end of the short corridor that she was in. "…okay…okay…" she muttered to herself as she leisurely made her way to the phone, which hung on the wall beside the fridge. It took one more ring before she finally picked it up. Her eyes fell idly on the trash can in the kitchen, where the crumpled bill for a locksmith's service was hastily thrown.

"_Cindy! Cindy are you there?"_ frantically yelled the woman on the other end of the line. Cindy knitted her brows and pressed her hand against the wall. "_Cindy, oh my God!"_

"Sarah? Is that you?" she asked, only vaguely familiar with the voice of his brother's lover. Both of them knew that they weren't exactly in good terms after all, which meant that conversation of any kind was quite a rarity, and most possibly something of importance. "What's wrong?"

"_It's Michael…he hasn't, we lost contact almost two hours ago…" _

"Ugh." Cindy rolled her eyes, and then leaned on the door of the fridge. "He's a cop Sarah. Maybe he's just arresting illegal immigrants or whatever."

"_Cindy, no, Cindy…"_ protested Sarah with her voice still panicked. It gave Cindy an unsettling feeling to say the least. "_Michael…he was headed for Silent Hill." _

Cindy's eyes widened at Sarah's haunting words. The town that devoured her sister had now called her brother as well. Sarah's voice soon disappeared into a blur, as Cindy mechanically placed the phone back on the receiver. She needed to change.

* * *

The night had grown colder. Much colder. So much so that Dean felt like he was walking completely naked. "Come out, come out…" he mumbled, trying his best to ignore the piercing cold that permeated his very being. "…at least before I get pneumonia and die…" he added, as he made sure that no obscure shadow was out of its place. With the fog as thick as it was, he had to rely on being able to catch the slightest sound and movement, just in case something was out there with the intention of killing him. Or eating him. Still, he's been through worse. "Come on already!" Dean quickly turned both pistol and flashlight to the left, at the sound of grass rustling. "…huh." False alarm.

Dean quickly performed a quick one-eighty, just to make sure that nothing had crept up from behind. Still nothing. "This is hopeless…" Dean muttered beneath his breath, only to stop cold at the faint sound of static. It was barely noticeable at first, like the sound coming from a far-off distance. But then it began to spike. Sporadically at first, growing louder and louder. "Oh, shit." Dean hastily stuffed his pistol back in his belt, and pulled out the source of the static from underneath his jacket. It was the EMF Reader, a small device that he designed specifically to read the magnetic frequencies of the immediate area. And it was going completely wild.

Sam cautiously trained his flashlight across the empty horse stalls, making sure that there was nothing hiding inside any of them. The old man was still too deep in his own grieving to notice what was going on. And Sam honestly couldn't blame him. He knew what loss felt like. He knew that it made your heart sink past your stomach, and that it made you feel so small that you'd think you were insignificant. The only difference between them now, it would seem, is that Sam chose to do something about his loss. Unfortunately however, choosing to do something about it didn't mean that he rid himself off the guilt he felt for it.

"You shouldn't push yourself too hard, Sam…" Jessica, whispered, emerging from the shadows. A vision in pristine white, just like the last time he saw her. And just as beautiful. Sam held his breath, and slowly lowered his weapon. "Jess…"

"Remember how cranky you got when you crammed for that POLISCI exam?" she softly asked, as she placed her arms around her lover's broad shoulders. "I swear, you were living off of coffee and Tylenol…"

Sam closed his eyes, and nodded in response. Strong as he was, he still couldn't find it in him to utter a word in her presence. His guilt made it impossible to do so. He didn't even notice the double-barrel and the flashlight slipping away from his grip, and tumbling down to the wooden floor. He just didn't care.

"…plus, we had a big fight that week. About ice cream? God, that was so stupid…" Jessica shook her head, and laughed silently at the old memory. "Remember how we patched it up? The night I came over to get some of my stuff? You were at your desk, and we couldn't even look each other in the eye? Do you remember?"

"…yes." came Sam's shaky reply. Jessica leaned forward, and kissed him on the cheek, before whispering to his ear. "What did you say, Sam?"

"I…I asked if Tylenol was low-carb..." Sam softly answered, his voice cracked and his eyes already swelling with tears. Jessica smiled, and began to laugh. "I was like, 'what?', then you started going on about how you wanted to try a low-carb diet, and you were scared that Tylenol was going to make you lose your abs or something…"

"Yeah…" Sam replied, remembering every word single with a mix of joy and sadness. He couldn't stop shaking.

"It was so stupid, I couldn't help but laugh." Jessica closed her eyes, and rested her head against Sam's chest. "…but then again…you always did know how to make me laugh, didn't you Sammy?"

"Jess…God, Jess, I…"

"It's okay Sam, it's okay. You don't have to tell me. I know. You can still come with us. We're so happy here…me and…you know. And we can totally ditch that noose idea. It was dumb anyway. I mean…" Jessica took a small step away from Sam, and turned her gaze to the gun by their feet. "…it'll only hurt for a second…"

Sam followed his lover's line of sight, and took a long, deep breath. There it was. The answer to his suffering. An end to his loneliness. The coward's way out. But before Sam could act out on his impulses, Dean came barging into the stables with his gun trained on the doomed lovers. The static from his EMF was nearly deafening. "Sam, move!" he immediately yelled, as loud as his voice would allow him. "Now!"

"Dean, wait!" Sam protested, as he defensively pulled Jessica to his back. "Don't!"

"What the hell are you doing?"

"It's Jessica!"

"Are you freaking high?"

"Dean, drop the gun- -"

"Look at it!"

"I said drop the gun! Sam shouted once more, before angrily reaching down to grab the double-barrel that he left on the ground. He didn't realize that by bending down, he left the woman behind him wide open for attack. And Dean did just that. Seizing the moment as it came, the elder Winchester pulled the trigger, sending a single bullet to the air, and into the creature's head.

"No!" Sam screamed, only to find himself unable to move at the sight of what he had been protecting. It was already on the floor, writhing and moaning suggestively - - almost sexually - - in a pool of its own blood. Its skin was a light shade of brown, like deeply stained animal leather, sewn over the figure of a slim woman. Its arms were bent back at an impossible angle, with its hands bound to the back of its neck by the long, disheveled blonde hair that covered the entirety of its head. It had on a pair of bright pink heels, and laces, as well as an old piece of lingerie to cover its lower extremities. Its breasts however, unlike the rest of its body, were bloody crimson, with yellow and blue veins clearly gathering at each point. "Does that look like Jessica to you?" Dean asked sardonically, turning his attention to his stunned brother. "Huh, Sammy? Does that thing look like your girlfriend? Come on, answer me!"

Sam pressed his knuckle against his mouth, still speechless at everything that had just transpired. Dean bit his lip, and fired two more rounds into the flailing monstrosity, one in the stomach, and the other on the top of her breast. It succeeded in finally ending the abomination's sexual death wail. Only then did Sam look away. Incidentally, the static had also died down.

"Remember what those two guys said. This place plays tricks on you. So don't let it."

"…uh…" Sam pushed back his hair, and turned to his brother. "…any idea what it is?"

"Looks like something from bondage dot com." Dean muttered, tilting his head as he kept his flashlight on the monstrosity. "I'm calling it boob-job."

"...think there's more than just this one?" came Sam's next question, to which Dean took out the EMF from his jacket. The small buzzing noise was still there. "I dunno' Sammy, but I'm betting that when we get closer to the town, this thing'll be screeching its little electronic heart out."

"Wait…" Sam quickly pointed his flashlight to the horse stall where the old man was. He was already gone, and so was her granddaughter's body. "…this is just getting better and better."

"What's that?" Dean asked, pointing his flashlight at a folded piece of paper that was left where the old man once was. It was covered in dry blood. "Must have fallen out of his pocket or something…"

"It's a newspaper clipping. Looks old." Sam declared, as he picked it up, raising it so that it was in the light's path. "It's too hard to read…"

"Blast." Dean lowered his head for a moment, before turning his attention on the 'Boob-Job's' corpse once again. "If more of these are running around, then the old guy's in trouble. We need to find him."

"Huh…he mentioned something about a school, right?"

"Yeah. But it's a pretty long shot, Sammy."

"Well, unless we can have this piece of paper dry-cleaned, it's the only shot we have."

"…alright. Alright." Dean shone the light over the dead monstrosity one last time, before pointing it over to the open doors. "Let's go to school..."

* * *

**Chapter 3 – End **

**Author's Note: Well, that does it for this chapterJ Drop me a line and tell me what you think, take care now! Cheerios :D **


	4. Gathering

**Author's Note: Hey! Sorry it took so long to update, but I kind of got sidetracked by something. Anyway, for all of you who waited, here it is, the next chapter! Enjoy!

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**

_**Previously on Supernatural/Silent Hill…**_

_**A small resort town in Northern part of the country, SILENT HILL fell victim to a tragedy that literally turned it into a ghost town not soon after. Over the years, people who have lost their way stumble into this town. They never return. **_

_**The brothers, on their way to tracking down their father, come across news of a bevy of disappearances across the country, all of which point to one commonality.** **They were all last seen near the deserted town of Silent Hill. Surely enough, the two decide to investigate. As they drive down a winding road, a horrible nightmare causes Sam to lash out violently, nearly causing them to crash on an eighteen-wheeler. They barely missed. But then, they had the problem of uncontrollably swerving through the railings. Thankfully, Dean managed to regain control just in time, but not without damage to the beautiful Impala, and from what Sam saw, running over a beautiful young woman. **_

_**Dean however, doesn't see this, and decides to drive to Brahms, the town nearest to Silent Hill, in order to get information. By the time they get there however, Sam has grown unexplainably ill. That's why he gets left inside the motel while Dean sets out to do the job, to which end he met a beautiful waitress, CINDY BENNETT, and her older brother MICHAEL. It is them who inadvertently confirm Dean's suspicions about Silent Hill. But as they discuss the strange town, the troubled Sam finds himself coaxed into suicide, by none other than his dead girlfriend Jessica. Dean manages to save Sam in time, as well as convince him to investigate the town of Silent Hill, where the disappearances seem to point. **_

**_Michael, suspecting that Dean is on his way to Silent Hill, decides to investigate, only to find his dead sister CYBIL driving past him. Distracted, he doesn't notice that the road abruptly disappears beneath him. Too late to stop his car, Michael falls right into what looks like a bottomless pit. Meanwhile, the brothers, on the edge of town, barely survive their first encounter with one of its residents…_

* * *

**

**Chapter 4: "Gathering"**_**

* * *

**_

Sam leaned back and watched as the rain slide off of the dirty windshield. Dean, as usual, was behind the wheel; doing his best to make sure that the old, jet-black BMW they found in the ranch wouldn't lose control over the slippery road. They've already been driving for a little more than fifteen minutes, and aside from a few out of shape billboards, they still saw no sign of the main town. Tall trees were lined on both sides, symbols of growth and life that looked more like contorted spires as they swayed hauntingly in the darkness. But then again, Sam was too deep in thought to even be bothered by the odd vegetation. At the very least, the fever that struck him the first time the strange occurrences began didn't come back for a round two.

"It's because you're psychic." Dean declared out of the blue, glancing at his brother for a quick second before returning his sights to the road. Sam responded by raising his eyebrow at his brother.

"Look, whatever that thing was, it must have been psychic too. That's how it got to you, you have a common…thing. That's why it made my EMF go wild."

"So you're telling me that we're up against… telepathic boob-jobs?"

"Is that really what we're calling them now?"

"That's what you named them - -"

"Yeah, well I was just kidding."

"Whatever. The name fits anyway."

Dean blew some air out of his nose, which was his own way of saying that he wasn't interested in continuing the conversation any longer. Sam took the hint, and returned to his stellar brooding. The next few minutes were spent in silence, with the elder of the two alternating between the option to slap his brother at the back of the head, or to once again try to find a way to tell him that everything will work out just fine. That he knew and he understood what Sam was going through. Unfortunately, Dean had no clue as to whether Sam was being manipulated by the unexplainable force surrounding the town, or if he was just being an ass. That and he never really was good at showing how much he cared for his baby brother.

"So, Sammy…" Dean started.

"Hmm?" Sam stirred, though he still chose to stare out of his window.

"What do you thinks waiting for us in Silent Hill? Ghosts and Goblins?"

"…you said there was a big fire, right? Well, if a lot of people died, then the negative energy would pretty much be off the scales. Violent deaths…" Sam slowly trailed off, obviously in deep, painful rumination. The woman he loved was set ablaze after all.

"Maybe it's the 'Demon'…" Dean declared, eager to steer the conversation somewhere worthwhile. "…prick probably set a big fire that got out of control. Ate half the town."

"I don't know Dean. This feels different." Sam answered, shifting his weight in order to better lean on the headrest. "It's like…this one has its own brand of evil."

"Evil has a brand?"

"You know what I mean."

"At any rate, it'll be one less 'evil' when we're through."

"I hope so." Sam dryly answered, before deciding to open the glove compartment out of a whim. It unfastened with a loud crack, revealing a pile of brown-stained envelopes and tattered registration forms stacked carelessly on top the other.

"You shouldn't look in other people's glove compartments Sammy, it's rude." Dean remarked, to which his younger brother scoffed in return. "Hey, I wasn't the one who hotwired the car, Dean…"

"Yeah, well at least I respect the man's privacy."

"Oh, hey…" Sam leaned forward, and pulled out a bulky, folded map from the middle of the stack. Oddly enough, it was still in good shape, considering everything else looked like they haven't been touched in ages. A red marker had been stuck inside, rolling out into Sam's hand as he unfolded the map. "…huh, there's a pen here too."

"So what, Sammy? You plan on killing the demons with your advanced B.A?

"Shut up, Dean. At least now, we won't waste the next three hours actually looking for the damn school."

"Do you even have any idea where we are now?"

"We're coming in through Vale. We take two rights and then a left."

"…how the hell do you know that?"

"…it doesn't take an advanced B.A. to read a map, Dean."

"No, I mean - -" Dean half-turned to face his brother, only to have his attention snap back to the road in less than a second later. Sam automatically followed Dean's line of sight, and right away found out what had his brother so concerned.

Heavy skid-marks were emblazoned on the cold, concrete road; marks that curved and led through the broken railings, and into the wide, grassy area beyond. And not too far from where it had crashed through was a gray, broken-down Station Wagon. Something must have been lodged on the horn, since it was blaring nonstop. Thin wisps of smoke seeped through its half-open hood, which took the brunt of the crash's force. Sam didn't need to ask his brother to stop the car so they could inspect the wreckage and see if the passengers were alright, as Dean didn't make any delays in parking his car right beside the torn railing.

* * *

She should have worn her seatbelt. Her father always made such a big fuss whenever she forgot to put it on. Basic road safety and all that. And now, on this lonesome evening, she would have scolded herself much like his father would have should he still be alive, but considering that she was now peeling her bruised forehead off of the steering wheel, any further admonishment would simply seem redundant. Unfortunately, the horn was still jammed in place, which meant the blaring noise was still pounding on her ears.

"Oh...God…" it took most of her strength to get back to an upright position, something she immediately regretted after feeling a sharp pain spread across the back of her neck. She clenched her teeth, and bore it in silence. To her, it was just another add-on to an already spinning world. Almost idly, she took a moment to fix her short, denim skirt.

"Pull yourself together…" she grumbled to herself, brushing away a long, curly black bang that her sweat has fastened to her cheek. Right after, she began to check on the rest of her face, making sure each sharp feature - - one of the pros from her Spanish heritage - - was still intact. Her finger soon found its way to the red mark on the right corner of her forehead, where the mere graze of her touch sent a stinging sensation through her entire head. It was enough of a jolt to make her remember what got her off the road in the first place. The man in the coat.

"No…no, no, no…!" betraying the restraint she had previously displayed, the woman began to delve into a state of hysteria, turning her head left and right as she frantically attempted to get the engine running once again. No such luck. "God!"

It took five tires before she finally gave up on getting the Station Wagon to run. With seething breaths, she reached for the passenger's seat where she left her purse, and pulled it onto her lap, where she began to rummage inside. Sweat began to drip down her nose, as she procured the item she searched for. A four-inch long flick-knife. It did provide her with a small sense of comfort. Unfortunately, it was one that was quickly diminished by the sound of palms beating against the passenger's door - - loud noises that seemed to cut through the noise generated by the Station Wagon's jammed horn. Like children desperately trying to get inside.

"Get away!" shrieked the woman, as she hurriedly pushed her own door open and unceremoniously dropped to the wet mud below. She didn't even care that the rain and the mud made the white blouse she wore barely visible. She had to get away. That was when she felt two hands grab her by the shoulders. Startled, she blindly lashed out at the man, plunging the drawn flick-knife right into his stomach.

Sam watched in horror as his brother crumpled to the ground, with the blade still embedded in his gut. The woman, whose eyes were wide with the realization of her action, was just as mortified. "Dean!" Sam screamed, rushing to his fallen brother's side. "Hang on, hang on, it's…it's just a flesh wound, okay? This is nothing…"

Dean tilted his head up, his face a clear portrait of the intense pain that racked his body, and locked his eyes on those of his brother's. "Sammy…you are a filthy liar."

"I didn't mean it…" chided the woman, who now had her back pressed against the open driver's door. Her thick, black mascara had already run down her cheeks, giving the impression that she had been crying for hours. "I'm so sorry…oh my God…"

"Help me lift him up!" Sam yelled, focused on keeping his brother alive. He knew that with the knife still lodged in his system, it would help in preventing too much blood from pouring out of his arteries. Which meant that Sam still had enough time to save his brother. "Lady, come on!"

"…what…" the woman swallowed her breath, and took a shaky step forward. "…what do we need to do…?"

"Grab his legs…" Sam instructed, while he began to reach behind his brother's heavy shoulders. The woman didn't hesitate to do as she was told, whispering apologies over and over as she did. Her eyes avoided his face, but she knew that he was looking at her.

"Hey…" Dean weakly called, forcing the woman to freeze in place. "…what's your name, beautiful?" he then asked with a pained smile, once again catching the woman off her guard. Sam frowned and shot his brother an angry stare. "Now's not the time, Dean!"

"Okay, let's wait till after I die…" Dean sarcastically snapped back.

"You're not going to die." Sam lazily retorted.

"You try getting gutted like a fish, geekboy." The elder Winchester taunted, clearly expending his strength just to offer a response.

"It's Vivian." the woman finally declared, putting a stop to the brothers' light-hearted argument. "…Vivian Marcelo."

"Vivian…"Dean smiled, and gave the distraught woman a wink, right before his eyes fluttered to a close. And as the darkness began to overwhelm him, the sound of his brother's cries and the woman's pleas soon faded into nothingness.

* * *

Back in Brahms, Sarah Collins watched the rain break against her apartment window through resolute eyes. There was something unnatural about the unwelcome precipitation; a sort of strangeness that disturbs a person to his or her very core, without even a hint of an explanation as to why. But Sarah, she knew. She was a sensitive after all. She knew that an immeasurable power was hidden beneath the hellish town of Silent Hill. And she knew that with the right combination of spells and incantations, she herself could wield that power. The power of a god.

But of as was always the case, the right to brandish such power must come at a price. And the most potent almost always had to be paid for in blood. With this knowledge, Sarah took a deep breath, and turned to face the far wall which was opposite where she was standing. Resting against the wall was the empty room's only piece of furniture; a small table with its top was covered by a black sheet of cloth. On it were laid numerous candles of black and red, surrounding a statuette of a mourning woman, with hands bound together above her head, as if in some silent condemnation of the heavens.

The figurine stood over the photographs of Michael and Cindy Bennett, both of whom had some sort of red liquid streaked across their faces. Sarah deepened her frown, and wore a black cowl over her long, auburn hair. The flame from the candles reflected against her bright, green eyes, as she began to make her way to the center of the small room. "Tuatha de Dannan…" she then uttered as she approached the odd altar, and got down on both knees, where she raised her hands in exaltation. "…queen of the other side…accept the offering of your most humble servant…for the blood that flows tonight, shall be in thy name..."

* * *

Michael sat up with a startled gasp. He was still alive. He then proceeded to check himself for any wounds that he may have incurred. Nothing seemed broken, and even his police uniform, a blue top underneath a brown jacket, along with a pair of black slacks, still seemed no worse for wear. The last thing he remembered was falling into a pit on his way to Silent Hill. He passed out before he reached the bottom, which oddly enough, is quite far from where he was now. He could tell because of the uneasy sound of a generator humming in the distance, as well as the scratching noise of thick wires pushing and pulling.

A putrid odor surrounded him, a combination of rust and sulfur that almost made him gag. "…okay…" Michael pulled out a small flashlight from his belt, and turned it on; wasting no time in shining it around him. "…what the hell?" The light first fell on a pair of closed metal doors, with a brown stain lining where the two ends met. Beside it was a panel, which also looked like it's been years before the last time it was used. There was no number on the floor reader above; even though he was sure that the platform was moving. "…why am I in an elevator?" Michael thought out loud, as he finally found enough strength to get back on his feet.

"…I must be dreaming…" he then mumbled to himself, a rational response by a man who followed his life with logic. "…must be…"

A loud, whining noise interrupted his line of thought; a noise that soon turned to heavy static. It didn't take long for him to realize that the noise was coming from the walkie-talkie on his belt. "…wait…" Michael grabbed the device, and raised it to his eye. Even with the noise, he could still make out the faint sound of a woman weeping. It was a familiar sound; one that haunted him on his every waking hour for years now.

"…Cybil?" Michael nervously asked, betraying the knowledge that his sister was gone.

"…_cheal? Mich…is…at…you?" _the fearful-sounding voice responded. Michael shook his head and bit his lips. It was impossible. He was sure of it. Cybil was dead. But still, he could do nothing but let his emotions take the wheel. "Cybil? Cybil it's me! I'm here!"

"_..h, Go…Mi…eal, ple..e hel…me…" _immediately came his sister's plea. Michael ran his hand across the top of his head as he desperately fought back his tears. But before he could gain enough bearing to speak once again, the line on the other end suddenly went dead. "…Cybil? Cybil?" Michael covered his mouth with his hand, praying that by some miracle, he could hear his sister's voice once again. No such luck.

All of a sudden, the elevator stopped in its tracks. The sound of massive gears locking into place echoed through the four walls, obviously signaling that the short trip had come to an end. "_Concentrate!" _Michael silently urged himself as he desperately tried to shake off the sound of his sister's voice. "_Pull it together man…" _he then thought, as he finally convinced himself to put the walkie-talkie back in his jacket, in order to pull out the handgun from its holster. Just in time for the old doors to slowly rattle open. Small particles of rust fell from the sliding steel, casting dark blots against the illumination that came from Michael's flashlight.

Outside the open doors, as far as the light would allow, he could make out a concrete floor. It was stained dark brown, sharing the same dereliction as the elevator that he was in. The distant sound of metal clashing and grinding against each other jarred the policeman's already disoriented senses, adding to the sick smell and heavy air that seemingly permeated every inch of the area. Michael took a deep breath. He knew he had to take the step into the unknown. He knew that there had to be an exit somewhere, and maybe a ticket back to some sense of normalcy. "…okay…let's do this…"

* * *

It took awhile before the swirling shadows finally resembled the shapes that they were supposed to be. That was also the same time that the pain came rushing back into his system. He didn't know how much time had passed, but it wasn't as dark as before he lost consciousness. Everything was just grey.

"Hell…" Dean sat up with a loud grunt, cursing under his breath as he recalled what had happened earlier on. Instinctively, he felt for the wound that was just to the left of his abdomen, getting a good hold of the bandage that was beneath his torn, blood-stained shirt. At least he was now sure that he was still alive. "Sam?" he then called, right before realizing that he was lying on top of a convenience store counter. Just a few feet away, to his front, were the glass doors. One was broken wide open, which was how the fog must have crept its way into the store. The rain had already stopped.

"…Sam?" Dean called once more, noticing some empty antiseptic bottles and a bloody washcloth on the floor just as he got off the counter. One of the bottles was broken, spilling the brown liquid that looked to have been stepped on, as wet footsteps led from the side of the counter to the back of the nearest isle.

On the other end of the store, a shopping cart had been driven through a stand of canned goods, leaving them strewn haphazardly on the dirty floor. Just beyond was a small passage that led to a half-open back-door. "Sammy?" Dean called again, this time taking the liberty of pulling out the gun which was thankfully still stuck in his belt. Right as he did, the sound of small steps, like clawed feet, grabbed his attention. Whatever it was, it was growling. And it was not alone. Instinctively, Dean spun to the direction of the sound, which came from the other side of the broken glass door. Just like it did in the barn, his EMF began to generate a jarring noise, signaling, obviously, the presence of something that should not be there. The creeping thought of his brother being hurt, or worse, nagged away at the back of his head.

Dean held his ground and trained his gun on the thick fog; ready to pull the trigger at first sight of anything unnatural. The growling suddenly turned into wheezing, almost like the sound of a hyena's whine. "Come on…" Dean muttered silently, his attention transfixed on the hole in the middle of the glass, sliding door. "…come out and play, assholes…"

And so they did. Without warning, creatures the shape of large skinless dogs crashed through both the left and right of the broken sliding door; flanking Dean on both sides. Startled, he let out a quick burst of gunfire, catching the creature's front leg and causing it to fall hard. But before he could even readjust his aim, the second one leapt straight at him. The force of the impact was pretty much the equivalent of a bowling ball hurled right at his chest. It hurt. Lots. Dean let out a loud grunt as the creature pinned him to the floor, forcing him to drop his gun in the process. It was only then did the elder Winchester get a clear look of what it was he faced.

It was a dog. Skinless and larger than anything he's ever seen. And it had the head that belonged to a human being's. Like the rest of its body, the head had no skin, save for the middle where the face was. It's teeth were blunt and yellow, while it's upper lip had been torn off, all the way up to what was once its nose - - leaving only traces of muscle and bone. It had lidless, dead eyes; making Dean feel like he was staring right into the gates of the afterlife. And it looked hungry.

"God, you're ugly…" Dean commented, right before the creature reared its head back and opened it maw to devour its prey. That was when an iron pipe was swung straight across its face with a sickening crack, forcing it off of Dean on down to the ground with a loud whine. Without giving it a chance to get back up, Sam continued to beat the creature with the iron pipe, giving Dean some room to reach for the gun he dropped earlier on. By then, the first creature, the one he shot in the leg, had already run off into the shadows; obviously smart enough to know when the odds are not in its favor.

Sam, for his part, continued to pummel the monstrosity with the iron pipe, not stopping even as he saw that it had completely stopped moving three swings prior. "Sammy!" Dean shouted in an attempt to get the attention of his enraged brother. No such luck. Sam was running on pure adrenaline now, and it wasn't until Dean decided to restrain him physically, that he managed to calm himself down.

"Okay…" Dean whispered, slowly taking a step back, and surveying the damage. "…what the hell?"

"I…don't…know." Sam replied, in between panting for air. "…Vivian…she…"

"Vivian? The chic who stabbed me?" Dean asked, only then noticing that the wound he got from her had been opened up, thanks to the monster who nearly ate his head off. He didn't mind. "Where is - - "

"When I was patching you up…oh God, you're wound…"

"It's nothing, just a few staples got popped. Where's Vivian?"

"She…she went outside, I didn't notice, she went outside, used the backdoor…then I heard a noise, so I went in after her…"

"And?"

"She was gone. She must have run off or…she must have, then those things attacked, one of them pretty much ate my shotty…Christ, they must have attacked her too…"

"Okay. Okay. Did she take the car?"

"No." Sam pushed back his hair, which fell haggardly all over his face right after. "…car stopped working few miles back, we had to drag you here…"

"Shit. She couldn't have gotten far." answered Dean, who began to walk to the open backdoor.

"What about the school? If the old man's already there…"

"At least he had a gun! You think Vivian's gonna' last long with a flick-knife, Sammy?"

"Okay, one, stop calling me Sammy. Two, maybe we should split up, I go to the school, you- -"

"Hell no." Dean immediately interjected, prompting Sam to raise his brow at his brother. Dean returned the gesture, and he was obviously better at it. "No, Sam! Last time I left you alone, you were almost swapping spit with a living prop from Hellraiser! And before that you almost killed yourself! Now come on!"

Sam held his breath, and nodded his head. There was no point in arguing, especially with his brother now five paces ahead of him, with guns ready to go blazing. Sam stiffened his grip on the bloody iron pipe, and followed.

* * *

Vivian panted out loud as slowed down to a jog, having absolutely no idea how far she ran, or even where she now was. Whatever was after her must have lost interest, or found somebody else to torment. Or so she hoped. She turned her head left and right, for any sign of shadows that would move through the unnaturally thick fog. The streets were wide and empty, with cars parked neatly on both ends. She wanted to scream for help, to shout for a Good Samaritan's attention, but she's seen enough horror movies to know that broadcasting your location to a town where dogs had faces and hooded men ran rampant wasn't exactly the best idea.

Still trembling, she squinted through the fog, only able to make out the few feet in front of her. There was a small boutique just a few steps forward, with naked mannequins strewn carelessly across the window display. The single door leading single was also made of glass, only it had both a steel frame and a metal knob. "…okay…" Vivian muttered, hurriedly making her way to the door. Breaking the window display would get too much attention, but punching through the glass to reach the knob on the door wouldn't. With a deep breath, she pulled out a white handkerchief, and began to wrap it around her fist. "…okay…"

Vivian raised her head back up, her eyes now meeting her own faint reflection. Her heart stopped. Somebody was standing right behind her. A hooded man in a black coat, the very same one caused her to veer of the road when she was headed into town. "No!" working on instinct, the terrified woman turned and plunged the flick-knife square in the middle of the man's chest. It didn't even make him stagger. Not waiting for a retaliation, Vivian sprinted to the left, only to have her arm caught by the man. She began to kick and claw, hysterically screaming for help, but it was to no avail. The man didn't even struggle to get her still, as he held her tight on both shoulders, and drew her close. And with their faces barely inches apart, the stunned woman finally saw the face of her attacker. The young man who's brother she accidentally stabbed barely three hours ago.

"…Sam?" she asked in a faint voice, her eyes pleading for the man to let her go. The man nodded, and ferociously shoved the poor woman right through the boutique's window, forcing her to crash right through the wooden display case. Her head cracked against the floor of the shop, her body now as limp as the mannequins that lay beside her. The man had vanished…

* * *

To be Continued…

* * *

Author's Note: Well, how was that? Kinda' cool if I say so myself…but then again, I think Koi fish are cool. But they're just expensive. Anyway, drop me a line and tell me what you think! Come on people, you have no idea how many times I've written something that didn't have a single review - - which I end up deleting, only to have a posse of people asking me what happened to 'that story I wrote that they liked'. Anyway, thanks for the time! Cheerios! 


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